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What a great friend this girl was.
She was the type anyone wanted by their side; she turned bread into art and told tales of wonders to any willing to hear.
She prounced around as a happy creature does in the sun.
In the wonderful beam of the everlasting sun.
..
The days were long and the nights far and few.
What a magical place this truly was, why, what such a tale.
For this girl lived in just such a place.
And all the creatures, from lands far away and far close were her dearest companions.
No one wished an ill thought.
No one crossed their eyes.
She was their loved one, their most wanted and cherished.
With such tales, and such an imagination, who could resist?
But all is not well that seemingly started well.
..
She can barely see past the smoke, clouding her vision, clouding her thoughts.
The sky has no stars; it never does, never for her.
She can sit there for years to come, and never will they shine.
Never will they fall- never will she be granted a wish.
The only wish she has;
..
In books of illustrations you could find her nose in deep.
And at times, in books of Tolstoy.
She does not care to look up at you, world, she does not care
to look down upon you ground.
In her world she floats,
where each day the magical kingdom is no more,
And perhaps never was.
..
A war goes on in her mind.
..
She is but another victim, another casualty.
Of this cruelty.
Fruitlessly she hits and smashes against,Pointlessly;
against the invisible wall of their indifference.
..
Not all was so dark and gloomy,
not all was lost.
For her friends from the magical kingdom would always see, alas.
But she was no more, and neither were they.
She had turned into what she always was.
..
A dust particle, named John.